A Suitable Match
by yoo-hoo luver.wlegs
Summary: While searching for a suitable match for her daughter, Leandra enlists the help of Varric. But parading Kirkwall's most eligible nitwits in front of Hawke proves to be both amusing and difficult. Will our sarcastic mage make it out OK?


Aveline eyed Varric warily as he offered her a seat in his rooms above the Hanged Man. "Is there a reason you couldn't tell me anywhere else, Varric?" She wondered flatly. Earlier that day, she had asked him a simple question to discern what was on his mind. Summoning her to the Lowtown tavern several hours later seemed dramatic and excessive, even for the dwarf.

"What can I say, Guard Captain? I have a fondness for suspense." Varric responded casually, taking his own seat and leaning back.

"Is that so? I only picked up on your fondness for bull shit." Aveline shot back, crossing her arms over her armor.

"You wound me, my dear Captain." Varric laughed smoothly, mockingly placing his hand over his heart. "Let me buy you a round, and I'll explain."

"Make it two," Aveline stipulated crossly. "All this secrecy because I asked why that thoughtful look out on the Wounded Coast? I don't even want to know what you do when someone makes a more serious inquiry."

Varric didn't rebuttal with a witty comment but rather sighed and leaned across the table, his all-knowing, bemused expression fading into a serious one. "Better off on my turf than elsewhere where any of the offending parties could barge in."

The Guard Captain regarded him for a moment and if the dwarf never held every respect for the woman due to a mixture of fear and awe, he would've definitely gained it then. As it was, Aveline couldn't pluck a grape without scaring the shit out of him and of all the things Varric Tethras strived to do, keeping on Aveline's good side was at the top of his list.

"Varric ," She began, her gaze never wavering, "have you done anything illegal that I should know of?"

The dwarf let a short chuckle escape him, partly from amusement, partly out of intimidation. In the same gesture he slid a tankard of "ale" he had filled for the occasion towards Aveline. "Depends on who you talk to, Guard Captain."

Aveline's frown deepened as she said flatly, "Well, you're talking to me. So I'll ask once more."

Varric opened his mouth to explain but before he could utter a syllable, Hawke stormed through the threshold. Instead of her usual robes, though, the mage was clad in a frilly peach number that was obviously meant for some Hightown function and not traipsing around the city.

The neckline was trimmed in a white scalloped fabric and lace festooned the entire poufy number. The mage had obviously run to the Hanged Man for despite being dressed to the nines, the gown's hem was muddy with some of the lace torn. A ripped sleeve hung down her arm, exposing her left shoulder and proving that Hawke wasn't swallowed entirely by lace and tulle. Her brown hair was out of its low ponytail and had been twisted and twirled into a simple but decidedly Orlesian style. But her hair was beginning to come out of its confines, leaving haphazard curls popping out in various places next to the odd twig or leaf. Hawke glowered at the two for a moment, nostrils flaring unbecomingly with anger. At length she pointed at Varric and announced as if the guardswoman and the dwarf hadn't been interrupted, "I blame _you!_"

Aveline shot Varric a look that said she was gauging off of him what her reaction should've been while the dwarf stood up, hands held before him in a contrite, conceding manner. He bent his head, which added to the effect but was most effective at concealing his amusement.

From the hall a voice called out, "Varric! You have to look at Hawke's get up!" Footsteps were heard rushing up the hall as Isabela poked her head in moments after Hawke's arrival. The pirate's face was flushed with laughter and rum as she took one more look at their fearless leader and dissolved into another fit of giggles.

"Maker's ass, Hawke! You look like a cream puff!" She cried, leaning against the wall lest she fall over.

Aveline's expression remained practically impassive save for a small upturned corner of her lips. Her belittling tone was laced with amusement, however. "Watch your tongue, Slattern. Sweets can kill you." Her lips twitched upwards in a slight smile at her joke.

Hawke was not amused and undeterred, she continued speaking to Varric as if the other two women weren't there.

"You just _had_ to humor her, didn't you?" Hawke demanded, sounding slightly deranged and at the end of her rope. "You just had to fill my mother's mind with _notions_ from that romance serial you're writing. 'Oh, it's harmless', you said! 'Sharing tidbits of the story so Mother can gossip with her biddy-buddies', you said." Of course the way she waved her hands at the word "notions" did nothing help her deranged rant in the dignity arena.

"Ha! Biddy-buddies." Isabela interjected with a giggle of laughter.

"Well, guess what, Varric?" Hawke continued, gesturing wildly. "I came home to my foyer filled with every bachelor from here to Starkhaven!"

"Hawke," Varric began sympathetically, his hand on his chest.

The action seemed to pacify her, if only for a moment. Yes, Varric had put her in that mess, but he utterly sympathized. And to the mage that was at least something. She let out a sigh and leaned against the door post, looking and sounding as if she was deflating. No doubt the tulle would rise up and consume the woman.

"Give me Qunari, the Carta, the Coterie, Templars…slack jaw yokel abominations named Bobo…_anything_ before leaving me alone in a room full of the Free Marches' most eligible nitwits." The Ferelden announced her hand on her brow.

Varric gave a smirk in response before Hawke could continue."Quite the comprehensive list, there. The city is rife with yokel abominations named Bobo."

A small smile formed at the corner of Hawke's mouth for a single moment before she stood straight and pointed an accusing finger at the bard. "You aren't charming yourself out of this, Varric." Hawke warned. "Somewhere between a rousing conversation of fine cheeses and a lively debate on the Empress Celine's impact on needless, silly hairstyles, I slipped away." Her manic look returned as she spoke. "Climbed out to the balcony, shimmied to the neighbor's garden, fell into it and decided to come _here_ to tell you that-"

"You blame me? Can't say I've been accused with worse." Varric finished lightly before gesturing to Isabela. "Rivaini, get our debutante here drunk on my tab."

Isabela was more than willing to comply and with a rakish grin, threw an arm around Hawke's shoulders. "Don't have to ask me twice." The pirate laughed as she moved to lead Hawke away but a voice stopped her.

"Buy her a few on me, Whore." Aveline popped up, tossing a few sovereigns at Isabela, who caught them with ease despite being drunk. The guard captain cast a sympathetic look and addressed Hawke, "Sorry Hawke, but anyone dressed like that _needs_ to be drunk…and fast."

Isabela let out a laugh and this time when she began to lead Hawke out, the woman complied, only pausing to point accusingly at the dwarf. "I still blame you." Her point was lost somewhere during the conversation, perhaps swallowed by the tulle.

"I know, Chuckles, I know." Varric reassured her as Isabela half stumbled, half led her out the door leaving Varric under Aveline's stern gaze.

"Perhaps I should be talking to Hawke." She observed flatly.

"Perhaps you should," the dwarf agreed on a sigh, returning to his seat. "but you'd only get part of the truth."

"Meaning?"

Varric laughed at that, Aveline never took any of his mysterious verbal sparring which with anyone else would have led to that person asking 'wait, what are we talking about again?'. Varric poured the guard captain a drink, mentally adding her interrogating skills to the ever growing list of reasons Aveline was better off ally than enemy.

"Meaning, Hawke knows only half of my hand in orchestrating this foyer of nitwits." He explained on a sigh. "The notion that I was giving Leandra fuel for gossip was just a cover up."

Aveline took a deep swig from her tankard and wondered _why_ she just had to ask questions. Granted it was what got her the job of guard captain but there were sometimes she cursed these impulses. Like the time she inquired about what Isabela was obsessively writing that one day. She banished the thought of Isabela's 'friend fiction' by making a mental list of things she needed to do when she returned to the barracks.

"You better make this good." The guard captain finally ruled.

Varric gave her a lopsided smirk and returned, "It's what I do."


End file.
